


Everyone Forgot About Flaco

by CupOfEarleGrey



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Budding Love, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Love Confessions, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-12-01 22:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupOfEarleGrey/pseuds/CupOfEarleGrey
Summary: Flaco thinks everyone forgot about him, but he couldn't be more wrong.





	Everyone Forgot About Flaco

Your frozen gloved hands gripped the reins tighter as you thought about what he had said.  
“You ever think you ain’t got no friends left? That you’re all alone in the world? Everyone forgot… everyone forgot about Flaco.”

You hissed a curse under your breath; the sound manifesting itself as a small white cloud in the frigid air. The audacity of that man. How dare he say that to you after you rode for days into the freezing mountains just to see him. Sure, he paid you for your time, but there were so many less troublesome ways to make the same money. You came up here for him and him alone.

Apparently that meant nothing to him. Not that you were surprised. It wasn’t as though you made a song and dance about it. But to discredit your presence as a lack of friendship stung. Even though he meant it about his old friends and not you, you couldn’t help but feel hurt by his words. Did he really feel that nobody cares about him anymore?

The thought made your heart heavy. It wasn’t true. You cared about him more than you’d dare to admit. Perhaps you should tell him. Even if he laughed or rejected your feelings, at least he would know about them. At least he might feel he still mattered. You drew back the reins, bringing your horse to a halt. You were already halfway to the Dakota river, but you turned your horse around and urged them back the way you had come.

-♥-

The ride back to his cabin took a good chunk of your day. Even with your determined urgency, the thick snow and thin air made it a difficult task for your horse. By the time you reached the frozen lake, it was sunset. The icy mirror reflected the burnt orange glow of the dying sun, leaving you with the impression you were playing with fire. You lingered at the far-side of the lake for a while, preoccupied by an internal battle of wills. Finally, with a bracing sigh, you rode across.

With a nervous bound, you banged open the cabin door. With the agility of a much younger man, Flaco leapt to his feet and aimed his revolver straight at your head. Your breath hitched, and you took an instinctive step backwards, carefully raising your hands in surrender. It reminded you vividly of the first time you met. After an intense moment, Flaco lowered his gun.

“Oh, it’s you.” He sighed wearily. “Thought you were a Pinkerton.”  
“I’m sorry.” You let out an unsteady breath of relief, but your heart continued to pound.  
“No worries. You looking for more work?”  
“Er… not exactly.”  
“Then why the hell are you here, huh?”

Flaco sank back into his chair by the fire with a pained grunt as you bit your lip. Not exactly how you’d planned this to go. Feeling self-conscious, you rubbed your cold hands together and stepped closer to the fire to warm them. Flaco watched you closely, but you avoided his eye. How do you say what you wanted to?  
Even though you had been rehearsing it over and over in your head on the ride up, it was all forgotten now that you were here.

You tried to go back to the beginning. To the first time he was more than a contact. It was as you headed out the door on a routine job, hunching up as you prepared for the biting cold, when he’d softly told you to “stay warm”. It was the most tender thing you’d heard in a long time. Those two small words kept you noticeably warmer that day than you would have been without them.

Flaco had a habit of slipping warmth and tenderness into his words that so many others had forgotten were important. Small, gentle reminders that you were his friend, that he cared about you. In a world that seemed so caught up in money, power and violence, he never failed to remind you that there was still someone who cared. There was still another reason to continue on. He did that without demanding reciprocation.

That’s what came to you one night after a hard day. Fighting back tears as you fumbled with a fresh packet of premium cigarettes. A card slipped out and fell into the mud. Looking down at it, you saw a familiar face in an unfamiliar form. Flaco Hernández it said, young and free as you had never seen him. You snatched up the card, hastily rubbed off the dirt and stared at it in disbelief. It was as though he had sent you a message to remind you that someone still cared. Clutching it to your chest, you finally let yourself cry.

You reached up and pressed your hand to your chest, right where the card was concealed. It was one of your most prized possessions, even though it’s now worn and bent. It was a private ritual to keep it as close to your heart as possible. A peculiar habit. You supposed everyone had their little good luck charm. You glanced over at him. Flaco’s keen eyes followed your every move with analytical intent. You wondered if he had guessed what was on your mind.

“What do you need?” he asked, his gravelly voice unusually gentle.  
You frowned at him, still trying to find the right words. What were you even trying to say?  
“I just… I wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Flaco was taken aback. He stared at you in surprise for a long moment. Then he broke into his fierce, stuttering bark of a laugh. You tensed your shoulders and grimaced at the sound, feeling a rush of embarrassment. Of course he would laugh at you.

“You still thinking about that?” He chuckled. “Old Flaco’s little grumble?”  
“Shouldn’t I?” You postured defensively.  
“I don’t know…” His humour died, leaving a mournful expression in its wake. “Got used to nobody listening.”  
“Well I listen.”  
“You do? Why?”

You blinked at him. That wasn’t a response you had anticipated. It made you think. Why? Why _did_ you care so much? Why did his words always have such a profound effect on you?  
Perhaps you had misinterpreted your own feelings. What you felt for Flaco wasn’t friendship, at least not the ordinary kind. You became aware of your pounding heartbeat, the unusual sweating of your cold palms, the flutters of anxiety in your gut. That wasn’t how you felt for a friend.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, looking down at the layer of snow still dusting your boots.  
Flaco set his gun down on the table beside him before standing up again. He filled the room with his presence, the flickering fire sending his shadow dancing on the walls of the cabin. He took a few steps towards you, causing you to look up into his shadowed face, meeting his eyes for the first time since you had arrived here.

“You don’t?”  
Swallowing, you shook your head. He was intimidating looming over you like that. The bravery you had summoned before crossing the lake seemed to have left you. But he didn’t move any closer. He just looked at you carefully, waiting. It didn’t take long for your nervous energy to get the better of you.

“You always make me feel like I matter.” You murmured. “I’m not just another gun for hire. That’s why I always ride up here. Not for work but… for you.”  
“You come here just for me?”  
“Yes.”  
Now that you had said it, some bravery returned. You looked up at him expectantly, almost daring to be hopeful. Your words had softened his worn face, or perhaps it was a simple trick of the light. He reached out and took your gloved hands in his.

Heat spread up your arms from his touch into your face, making it burn. It was the first time you had ever touched. His large hands were gentle as they encapsulated yours.  
“You make Flaco very happy.” He smiled and slowly bent forward.  
Your heart skipped several beats as he moved down and pressed a short kiss to your cheek. It lit a fire in your soul you hadn’t realised needed to be lit.

He stepped away and slowly let go of your hands, making his way back to his seat. You still hadn’t taken a breath by the time he sat down. He grinned at you knowingly, picking up a half-whittled block of wood and a knife.  
“Come see me again soon. I’ll have something for you.”

His dismissal surprised you, but you were glad of the out. You had no idea how to proceed now that he had rendered you speechless. So you grinned, ducked your head to hide your blush and nodded. When you got outside, you looked up at the beautiful expanse of stars now shining brightly above you. Though those bright suns were an unimaginable distance away from you, you could suddenly feel their warmth.

The next time you visited Flaco, he had whittled you a small wooden plaque with the words “Stay Warm” etched into it. You thanked him with a kiss.


End file.
